


Evergarden Me

by tachiisweet



Category: Free!, Violet Evergarden (Anime)
Genre: Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, Healing, M/M, Multi, Other, Pen Pals, Slow Romance, buckle up we going on a wild ride, i have called the violet evergarden au as the evergarden au bc its easier skjdfhs, i know the fandom is dead but I AINT SO HERE WE GO, so evergarden!makoharu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29100030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tachiisweet/pseuds/tachiisweet
Summary: One day, I will find you. I will call your name and hold your hands and kiss every inch of skin that you will permit me to. Before the end of our story, I will find you one last time. Then, I will tell you what I am patiently waiting for. With my bare hands, I will swim every ocean, I will climb every mountain and fight every battle to see you. Just one last time. For now, tonight, once more, I will slumber and wake with cold fright and think of you until the morning sunrise.Forever waiting,Your lonely Sincerity.-After the 4 year war, battle-worn Haruka Nanase returns to his hometown, Iwami, where all he has known and loved is no longer there. One day, a mysterious letter addressed to Haru penned as Sincerity enters his mundane, fragile life. Intrigued, Haru becomes an Auto Memories Doll while helping his old literature teacher Miho Amakata with the rebuilding of the little postal of his hometown.With the help of his new, unnamed associate, precious memories that have been buried under time slowly come to light once more. As Haru struggles to recollect the pieces of his old life, he begins to find healing in ways he would have never expected.
Relationships: Hazuki Nagisa/Ryuugazaki Rei, Kirishima Ikuya/Tono Hiyori, Kirishima Natsuya/Serizawa Nao, Matsuoka Gou/Mikoshiba Seijuurou, Matsuoka Rin/Yamazaki Sousuke, Mikoshiba Momotarou/Nitori Aiichirou, Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto, Shigino Kisumi/Shiina Asahi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	1. your lonely Sincerity

_To my early Spring,_

_It has been 1337 days since I last saw your face. This has been the longest time we have been away from the other. The times when we together had now aged with unwashed blood of those who have fallen and those we have cared for. Ah, we were young then; foolish and so very lovely._

_To this day, the words that I wished to say refused to leave my mouth continues to weigh upon my chest and leaves me shaking and breathless for your touch. As if I'm drowning in our promised eternity, I regretfully watched us part ways until we could no longer see the other. I can still remember you, fragments like broken glass. Your hair always smelled of the ocean salt, and your slender fingers were cold to the touch no matter what I did to warm you. You always raised your index finger to bite on your knuckle to restrain a laugh and your hair was long enough for me to insist on having it trimmed. I recall the days where I once tugged at the ends of your hair, which made you slap my hands away and I only laughed in retaliation._

_But there are things I no longer remember. The way your eyes lit up or the way your cheeks flushed red after I called you by your nickname. I have forgotten the way our hands once moulded together; how our fingertips brushed past each other on our long walks from school to home. These sensations have left me, the sound of your voice has become muted and the drawing of you I hold has become faded and worn. The shape of your face has now become shapeless between my hands. I try hard to pin our past together, but time has been cruel. The hands you have once known are now scarred with sins that cannot be washed away by holy water. I have fallen apart and been forced back together into a disjointed mess. Even so, I selfishly, longingly, seek for you despite my state. After all, you may be the only person left alive who might truly seek what my heart is worth._

_I wonder if you are alive, just like me. I wonder if you are just as broken as I; if you still love drawing under trees in the summer heat or disappearing on long walks on stretches of sand. You used to always find it endearing to jump into the nearest pool of water wherever we went. Do you still smile when you see stray cats? Do you still murmur your wish to be young again, to have an excuse jumping in when passing by muddy puddles? How I long in the quietest evenings with my own thoughts, singing old hymns we once rhymed together as we clasped our hands as the school bell rings. Sometimes I can hear your voice too. It rings in my ears, beckoning me to a past we can no longer return to. What I would do to breathe the very same air as yours. To hear your laughter, and to see your smile once more, is the greatest desire a desperate man in love can ask for._

_Now, my hand is hurting, and I fear my words are trembling in tender agony. My heart aches knowing my letters does not express a fraction of what I wish to tell you. Do not worry though, for my hands and mind and soul belongs to you anyways. Even though you may have not known this, it has always been you and only you. If only I was braver and told you the truth, my truth. I have held nothing but insincerity the day we parted ways._

_One day, I will find you. I will call your name and hold your hands and kiss every inch of skin that you will permit me to. Before the end of our story, I will find you one last time. Then, I will tell you what I am patiently waiting for. With my bare hands, I will swim every ocean, I will climb every mountain and fight every battle to see you. Just one last time. For now, tonight, once more, I will slumber and wake with cold fright and think of you until the morning sunrise._

_Forever waiting,_

_Your lonely Sincerity._


	2. immemorable past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning arrives for Haruka Nanase, where he has been confined in Iwami's small hospital for nearly the last seven months. When he is finally, begrudgingly, discharged, what will await his new life? Who will he first meet?

On the day of his discharge, a new spring’s fragrance beckons him towards the open ocean waves greeting him in the early rise of the sun. Curtains bellow with the breeze; cool air circulates the waking man into a state of consciousness. He doesn't wish to see the same ceiling yet here he is. Stuck in a rickety bed that never fails to creak under his weight no matter how hard he tries to minimise his movements. How many days has it been since he was transported to this hospital? If one could even call it a hospital; there are only ten beds at most and perhaps two, three nurses and a single doctor from what he has observed. All of them unfamiliar faces to him despite their insistence otherwise.

The little town of Iwami is a port that has been mostly unscratched by the four years of war that has taken the largest nations by a storm. The only thing that has left Iwami behind is a population of the elderly, new widows and orphaned children. Haruka is one of the first who has returned to his hometown back in one piece at the very least. Never did he think he would return to feel the stinging salt upon his skin, sinking into his very pores. It felt foreign, terrifying. Then again, the unknown no longer frightens Haruka. It is all that he has known over the course of the war. Spending every waking moment with dry eyes, glancing behind his back every possible second that was gifted to him. It was all that he could do; to survive and live on.

Looking back upon his fragmented memories, Haruka cannot find the reason why he clung to life so desperately, for now, all he wishes is eternal slumber. The evenings of Iwami no longer provide the comfort he once felt as a child. Not even the water he once so adored entices him the same way as he did during his childhood. Youth. What a funny word. He only just turned eighteen when he first enlisted into the army and yet now, somehow, he has lived to the new age of twenty-three. The young man lifts his bandaged arms into the air, silently observing the stains of red that have long since dried up and is now nothing more than a mark reminding him of what has become of his past. The elderly once told him, as a child, that the past is a thing that mortals can no longer reach for. Yet why can I? It is so excruciatingly tangible he could taste the smoke swirling into the endless skies, he could feel the sticky, sickly liquid, deemed as life itself, seeping out of the numbing pain from his own body.

In the darkest of evenings, when his limbs are locked in position, and the weight of dead soldier’s bodies pile upon his chest, crushing his lungs, Haruka is cornered into facing every mistake, every pull of the trigger and the falling of familiar faces onto the earthy ground. Unable to inhale enough air, his vision has led him to believe he’s on a forever-stretched land, running until his legs become numb to the agony of being pushed to its very limits. His ears ringing from nearby explosions, he would stumble and slip-on mud where piles of rotting bodies soften his landing. It was all he could do to continue marching forward; his fingers shaking viciously around the metallic trigger, realizing solace lingering in the blood of those who fall for a pointless cause. On that same evening, the first time he dares feel more than fear itself, Haruka felt acidic agony that burned at his throat as he hurled everything out, and for that, he was denied rations for days afterwards.

During the coldest, most lonely of those nights, he would lie there awake, betrayed by his own consciousness to confront his worst self. Fear itself settled into his fractured bones, grasping at the remains of his unravelled innocence. No words would leave his mouth; the sharpened edges of his cry for help lodges into his throat and scratches the insides of his trachea. It burns the same way fire licked at his skin, pleading for a single taste more of the sheen of sweat that coats his face. His gaze would remain transfixed, compelled to watch the way his jacket blooms red after the ringing of a gunshot as if red camellias have been planted into the core of his abdomen and is only sprouting after the taste of iron.

All he can remember is the call of his name from someone far from his reach; Haruka has never heard his name called so beautifully, so tragically and so wonderfully all wrapped in one. It was the most fitting parting gift the young man could have thought of; to be called out as if he would be remembered and dearly missed.

In the mornings of those terrible, frightening hours he will remain to stare into nothing but the air. Eyes drooping from the weight of yet another sleepless evening, Haruka is forced to remain content to live another day, if laying in bed, wasting away any remaining strength, is considered as living. The only thing that comes to mind is the long-awaited discharge the doctor has finally permitted. As to what Haruka will do afterwards is left to the hands of the unknown. Who else remains? Would anyone recognise him? From what he has been told, and from the remains of his former self, no one would be waiting for his return. His parents have since passed away due to the impact of the war, and his dear grandmother has long departed of this world thankfully.

Haruka does not find himself dwelling too much on his future. Life will take him where he needs to go, as it always has done. His thoughts fill the silence of time and soon enough Haruka is shaken into consciousness by the nurse, who offered a gentle gaze and a warm smile. He did not return the sentiment, but it appears that after being here for seven months has led to the outcome that the hospital staff now understands that is simply Haruka’s nature to be unsmiling and aloof. The nurse fussed over him once more, attempting to engage him in a pointless conversation while helping him sit up in his bed. The man remains mute, eyes straying to the side of his bed. The nurse smile returns in knowing of what the former soldier was asking for.

She made sure to settle him comfortably, mentioning the changing season of another spring before reaching for a well-used notebook and a rattling, metal rectangle. Haruka was asked by the staff if he wished for more, but a few sharpened pencils are all he needs to convey what he wants. His hands twitch in anticipation, fingers wrapping itself onto the book and case before the weight of them makes his arms fall limp onto the bed. The nurse giggles, chatting something about his dismissal from the hospital. Useless noises that Haruka cannot find himself able to engage nor willing to entertain; life is much too precious to be filled with pointless talk. Too much noise means that he is unsafe. The stillness of slumber is one nightmare, but during the daytime, it is a blessing. She pulls out the bed tray that’s only reserved for his uses, settling it so Haruka may rest his arms with ease. The man grunts, shaking her wandering hands out of his personal space and drags his notebook and case onto the bed tray. It clatters on the wooden frame, echoing in the empty room of beds.

Eventually, she leaves him alone as to when Haruka would not be able to answer; his attention has already dragged him into pages filled with drawings. Mundane, memorable things come to mind, and his hand follows his internal orders. Some were animals; stray cats lazing atop stone stairs. Some were fishing boats that have made its home among the calm waves; in the early hours of the days Haruka can just make out the squawking of old fishermen greeting each other.

When the sound first woke him, during the first few days upon being transferred to Iwami’s hospital, it took at least five hours for the nurses and doctor to restrain Haruka’s frantic cry of fear. He thrashed and heaved; he clawed and bit anything that was within his range. Nothing calmed him until the injection was given. All he saw in his vision was nothing but green; a green so extraordinary that he believed he had truly died and met spring itself.

He continues to spend his hours drawing, mind scattered with mounting frustration for no particular reason. It was near mid-afternoon by the time he was taken out of his trance. “Nanase-san,” The nurse returns, floating across the room as if she can’t contain her happiness any longer. He can only assume that it’s supposedly good news. Maybe they’ll let him leave earlier than arranged. “You have a visitor here for you! He said that he’s a very good, old friend of yours.” Before the patient could raise a brow in question, a mop of wavy blonde hair appears from behind the door and familiar magenta eyes peek over to meet his own eyes.

Haruka’s chest tightens; a dusty, forgotten box filled with memories from the depths of his shadowed mind comes to light. “Nagisa.”

The figure’s expression hides nothing as it brightens upon hearing his name. He steps forward, encouraged by Haruka’s simple remark, half bouncing across the room to his bedside with a near-cautious smile appearing upon his youthful expression. “Hey-ho, Haru-chan. It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

* * *

_To my fragrant Spring,_

_The days are slow without you once again; 1572 days if counting time will bring me closer to you. Without our permission, the hand of clocks continues to tick reminding me of the cruel fate in which I am far apart from you. Not knowing where you are, how you are, or if you are even receiving these letters of mine, or if you are able to respond to them leaves my chest hollow. These are thoughts that I do not allow myself to dwell on, for the possibility of you not in this world is something I would rather bury into the ground where many of my comrades now rest._

_I would write more, for my head has been filled with thoughts of nothing but you. Although these memories of mine have become fragile and fractured, I still yearn to see the colour of the seas and the skies in your very eyes and to be admired under your attentive scrutiny. I wish to feel the sunshine upon my face with you and to be able to press my fingers where your beating heart pulse and to yell in jubilation for your victory over death. To be able to stand by your side, watching the way the ocean waves lap at our feet, is what a dying man would dream of. In this case, it’s what a wretched lover dream of._

_For when we are facing the end of our short lives, all we wish for is more time; to live in the moments we have labelled as simple and wasteful during our waking moments. What I do recall of our life together was just that; we lived our days in simplicity, unknowingly cherishing and regretting the time we have spent together. The peace that we lived in was a bubble that sheltered us from the reality of the greater world that surrounded us. It was ignorant, it was wonderful. Bliss was truly achieved in those days. Now? Well, I’m not too sure what we had will ever be found again. It is a sacrifice that we have both made, to enter the war for the sake of our families, for the sake of our friends. For the sake of each other._

_It threatened us; our peace, our harmony. It was something that I could not allow, and so followed your footsteps until your back was all that I could see, and we no longer were together. As I have nothing but my own self, I can now see clearly the errors of my decisions, but I can also hear your voice ringing in my head reprimanding me for overthinking once more. I cannot help myself; it is one of the few flaws I continue to practice. I wonder if my mistakes would make you chuckle and if my clumsiness makes you sigh in exasperated adoration. The things I wish to re-learn about you are endless and I think to myself most recently how wonderful it would be to fall in love with you a second time. A third, a fourth and so on. However, many times I need to, I do not think I would ever tire of spending my time to be with you. A second longer is all I need._

_I pray that this letter finds you well and that perhaps, you may respond to them one day. I eagerly await your letter._

_Lovingly,_

_Your lonely Sincerity._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! I hope this first (official) chapter interests you all <3 it may be short but I hope the quality of my work outweighs the wait and length. any kudos and comments are always appreciated. follow me on Twitter @ tachiisweet for more info and updates! see you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on Twitter @ tachiisweet for updates and info! hope to see you all there <3


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